


Dana Scully's Guide To Diners and Dives

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Restaurants, X-Files OctoberFicFest 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22124731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: "We should write a restaurant guide," Mulder said, savoring a mouthful of pot roast.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	Dana Scully's Guide To Diners and Dives

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: n/a  
> A/N: For the Inktober prompt "tasty".

They ate the best fries of their lives in a diner in Nebraska in the middle of a howling blizzard. The best coffee was in upstate New York in a B&B. The best pie was apple, in Michigan, with a crust that flaked on the fork and melted in the mouth. And the salmon in Oregon was indeed to die for, with that twist of lemon and that wild flavor and those scales that glinted like light on the ocean. 

"We should write a restaurant guide," Mulder said, savoring a mouthful of pot roast.

Scully snuck a carrot from his plate. "Mulder, any restaurant you recommended would immediately disappear or turn out to have been closed for years."

"That's only the Tír Na Nóg Café," he cracked.

"Good diners are like cryptids," Scully mused. "Rarely experienced and no one believes you, even when you document the phenomenon."

"I didn't know you were such a believer," he teased.

"I believe in this," she said, taking a forkful of pot roast.

She surprised him years later with Dana Scully's Guide To Diners and Dives, painstakingly cobbled together in Microsoft Publisher, complete with clip art.

"I printed it out in the office," she confided. "Unauthorized use of the Bureau's office supplies - I'm essentially a thief now."

"I always suspected you of latent anarchist tendancies, Red," he told her.

"We all have our limits," she said, examining her nails. 

He flipped through the poorly formatted pages. He couldn't help smirking at the memories: late nights, the two of them haloed in that end-of-the-world light that you only found in restaurants where there were no other customers. Hours and weeks and years spent together. They'd broken bread together, celebrated a hundred private holidays in the midst of the oblivious throng. However silly it was, her little booklet was a reminder of those meals, all those misty early mornings and too-late nights, the company the best seasoning even when it came to the choicest of their meals.

"Happy birthday," she said in that comfortable voice he loved the most.


End file.
